


Danse Macabre

by uglywombat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU Bucky Barnes, Blood, Breeding Kink, Cult AU, Cult Leader Bucky Barnes, Demon Bucky Barnes, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Group Sex, Knife Kink, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wickerman Themes, demon kink, sacrificial sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: You are an undercover reporter investigating the curious and mysterious Bucky Barnes and the The Souls of Avenging Earth family residing in Aleister Crowley’s infamous Boleskine House.  In a last ditch attempt to find the evidence you need, you unwittingly find yourself thrust into a dangerous world of dark magic and into the arms of the unassuming cult leader.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	Danse Macabre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nellblazer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/gifts).



> This is for a challenge fic swap hosted by the glorious darkficsyouneveraskedfor on tumblr. 
> 
> I'm hella nervous for this. I really hope you enjoy this x

**Boleskine House, Foyers, Scotland 1972**

Outside the weather is frightful. Heavy sheets of snow gather on the thick blanket already coating the dying grass below. The night is opaque and uninviting; the pale light of the full moon shrouded in dark clouds. 

The glass, old and timeworn from the frigid and rugged landscape, is ice under your fingers, a far cry from the onrush of heat beating from the lit fireplace behind you. The air is heady with the scent of alcohol, and the spiced aroma of patchouli, Damiana Leaf, and marijuana. 

It’s suffocating. 

Intoxicating. 

You can feel soulful, all-knowing eyes analyse your every move as you take in the ominous view outside, your back to the party raging on behind you. His dark pine velvet suit perfectly skims the lean muscular body beneath, the honey skin of his bare chest glowing in the low light of the fire burning beside him. 

Wearing the curve-hugging lace maxi dress had been a mistake. Like walking to a lion’s den, silver orbs have all but devoured you since you stepped over the threshold, waiting for its kill and feast. You have his attention. The Bill Gibb cream dress had been a last-minute purchase at Harrods before departing on your passion-assignment for  _ The London Times _ . And now… you wonder if you will even make it out alive. 

The world is still coming to terms with the devastation left by Manson and his Helter Skelter family. So pre-occupied and consumed by the grisly murders and the horrors of a possible cult, a dark, dangerous threat has manifested and festered in the highlands. For years the police have overlooked the signs. Ignored the warnings. 

You have studied and watched the omens and harbingers; murders, sacrifices, strange and foreboding symbols in blood… 

It has all led to this. 

Glancing to the left, you find yourself locked in his eyes; even reflected off the glass, they are intense and all-consuming. 

James Buchanan Barnes, the handsome and unassuming leader of  _ The Souls of Avenging Earth _ , is every bit as charming and charismatic as you had wished. He had been more than happy to play host as you spent the week with his family in Aleister Crowley’s famed Boleskine House. Under the guise of reporting an investigative piece on the rise of veganism, thanks to the infamous Linda McCartney, you travelled up from London to interview the unostentatious leader. 

It was easy to lose yourself under his spell and there’s been a number of times where you have lost track of time and sense of being. Keeping a professional wall is easier said than done, the Barnes family all too… 

The words are infuriatingly hard to find. 

Tearing yourself from his keen gaze, you take a sip of the sweet wine before taking a greedy drag from the blunt in your hand. You know it’s dangerous to impede your control but tonight is your last chance to truly win over the honey leader and finally learn the true depravity of his genius. 

So far you have borne witness to discussions of sexuality in spirituality, clean living of diet and well-being, the human role in the environment. And yet, there is a dangerous undercurrent that you are yet to crack. Barnes’ philosophy is a mix-match, messy fusion of Crowley’s beliefs and Paschal Beverley Randolph’s. Shrouded dogma hyper-focused on sex and magic, the energy has been taut and tense. 

Spending most of his time shirtless and barefoot, touch and contact are vital to his beliefs. You have stumbled upon couples making love in nearly every room of the sprawling house and swapping partners. There is no shame, no modesty. Nudity and body confidence is paramount to their daily goings-on. 

You are no prude. You lived through the height of the 60s and love the ideals of the hippy lifestyle. But, this is… 

You don’t know what this is. Your best efforts to win over the enigmatic leader have been fruitless. 

“You must fully believe; be open and vulnerable to every energy around you to fully understand who we are,” he has told you time and time again. 

The barriers he holds up high around the ideology of his cause, or whatever this truly is, has done little to ease the intense sexual chemistry. You can barely take a breath without his scrutinizing eyes or inquisitive hands on your skin. It’s as though he uses this mysterious magnetism to draw you in. 

The soft tapping of metal against crystal forces you to turn your back from the wild moors surrounding the infamous manor to the illustrious leader. It’s hard to miss the dark glint in his eyes, locked on you as you remain on the periphery of the group. 

“My friends, my children, let us give thanks for the many blessings we have been gifted with on this most festive and hallowed eve. May our fruits be rich and ripe, our bellies full, and our hearts always open to new and wondrous souls.” You stand frozen to the ground, your heart thumping so hard and fast you can barely breathe, a wash of fear and lust flowing through your veins. His eyes are locked on yours as his congregation watches him dutifully.

“Tonight we pay sacrifice to the gods and the ancient beings who watch over us, protect us, give us life. Everything we have worked for, studied, bled for has been for this very night. A new age is dawning as we celebrate this most Holy and sacred day.”

Bucky moves around the room with the grace of a leopard. His hands caressing a face or a shoulder, or gently dancing over hair as he makes his way through his captive audience. He stands before you, silver eyes securely fixed on yours as lithe fingers graze your cheek. “Tonight we become one and breathe new life into this world.”

Transfixed in his gaze, you barely register Steve and Peggy slowly make their way around the room passing out small white tablets and sharing an antique wine goblet with their kin as Clint turns up the volume on the record player. 

“Do you submit yourself to the will of the gods, my little dove?” His voice is a lulling purr, so sweet and sickly. “Do you willingly give yourself to the true lord and master of this wretched plain and bear witness to his great host?”

There is nothing innocent in the leader’s plans tonight, that much you know, but you are falling so hard and fast under his spell you can barely fight as he places the small pill into your mouth, completely unaware of the ‘yes’ that falls from your lips.

You can feel your pupils literally blow as his thumb caresses your plump bottom lip and a smirk plays across his own, the pill slowly fizzing on your tongue. He encourages you to sip from the silver goblet Steve has handed to him; rich, earthy merlot dances in your mouth as you swallow the small troche. 

Bucky watches you closely as your head swims and you grip onto the incredibly soft velvet lapel of his green jacket for stability. Under your fingers, you can feel the heat literally pumping from his skin as he slowly draws you back against the wall. His lips are tender against yours, tracing the outline of your tongue with his own as he cards his fingers through your hair. His heady, woody scent is intoxicating, drawing you further under his spell as you happily submit to his roaming and hungry touch. 

You almost chuckle as  _ House of the Rising Sun _ begins to play on the old record player. It’s ironic that you may not live to see the sun rise on Christmas morning, yet you’re not afraid.

Soft, feminine hands draw the graceful leader from your space, hands slowly undressing him as hungry kisses are exchanged. It takes you a moment to register Wanda and Natasha pull Bucky from you, but your attention is quickly drawn to the sweet lips pressing to your shoulders as Carol slowly undoes the buttons on the back of your dress. 

Brunhilde peppers kisses to your breasts as the white lace pools at your feet, revealing your naked body to the dark-haired leader and his followers.

“Absolutely divine,” he purrs, “ you are the perfect vessel.” His silver eyes are blown dark, his pupils dancing in the low light of the fireplace as he stands before you nude. “Come to me, my pet. Show your god who you worship.”

A crowd gathers as you allow Bucky to lead you over to the soft furs before the fireplace. Small sticks of incense burn beside the fireplace and you spy a rich gold chalice filled with thick, red liquid sitting beside a silver knife adorned with jewels, the tip tainted with droplets of rouge. 

But, Bucky is quick to pull you from the minuscule moment of reality, his lips claiming yours as he presses his hard cock against your hand and forcing you to stare into his eyes. “I have longed for this night for an eternity. Tonight, you learn what it is to see true darkness and unmask your full potential from this unworthy mortal world.”

All sensibility and self-awareness have eroded and you are completely at his mercy. 

The music carries on as the steady beat of a deep drum begins, oddly out of time with the song but entirely in time with itself. Hands encourage you, his followers kiss and caress you as the handsome leader lies down before you, his back on the soft, inviting furs laid out on the ground. 

“You are so blessed, so beautiful,” Peggy hums before kissing you gently, her long fingers delving between the juncture of your thighs. She greedily sucks in your shocked gasp at the utter and debauched state she finds you in. 

“She is ready and wanton,” Steve chuckles darkly in your ear as he cups your breasts from behind. “She will make the perfect bride and mother.”

The confusion playing across your face at his statement is torn from you as you feel Brunnhilde and Sam take a firm grip on your waist. Her kisses are firm and greedy, a total contrast to his sweet lips. It’s the perfect distraction from the weight drawing you down to kneel over the lithe leader.

Bucky lies back, his head resting on his carded hands as he watches you intently, wantonly. Beside you, Peggy pulls his thick, uncut cock into her hand before taking him between her perfectly rouge lips. Beautiful, long eyelashes dance and flutter against his honey skin as he emits a guttural groan.

“Laude Asmodeus,” Steve begins to chant as hands begin to grasp and caress you. “Benedicite Asmodeus et eius sponsa.”

Your memory of Latin class is vague and unclear thanks to time and the mix of alcohol, weed and whatever the little white pill had been. You cannot for the life of you translate the languid and deep chant.

Each time your attention is pulled from the beautiful man splayed out before you, lips and hands pull you back into the hazy, erotic entanglement. Sam encourages you to spread your legs further, allowing Peggy to alternate between sucking Bucky’s now-angry and weeping cock and the taut nub at the crown of your pussy. 

This is debauched and an absolute sin, but locked in the intense gaze of the beautiful leader this feels right. Like you were born for this.

“Vestra phylarchus quod paratus.” His voice is otherworldly; impossibly deep, rumbling. The room moves with his words, his eyes blown dark as night.

Peggy slowly moves from his cock, gently take him in her hands as Steve and Sam gently lift you up before placing you down. Your walls stretch with a delicious burn to accommodate Bucky’s thick cock and the room stops. The once roaring fire has now stilled and his flock now kneel, praying in Latin.

“Ave Asmodeus. Ut non laudo Asmodeus.”

Bucky pulls your attention back to him, his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes glazed over, all warm and inviting. “Ride your prince, my love, and ascend to your true and rightful place in this world.”

You obey, deliberately rising on your knees before allowing yourself to sink back down onto him fully. The beat of the drum slowly begins to grow in tempo and volume. As if one with the man beneath you, you can feel the pulse of your flowing veins thrum in sync with him. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist as you balance yourself with your hands splayed out on his chest as you ride him. The malicious smirk that plays on his lips burns your desire bright and rapidly, like a wildfire taking the mountains. 

Silver orbs slowly murk as the sound of your slick and skin-slapping fill the room, the chanting slowly drowning. 

As you feel your orgasm grow and build with each grind of your hips, you’re transfixed by his ever-darkening gaze as if caught in some dark spell. You barely register him pulling himself up and gripping your face.

A shriek catches in your throat at the sudden sight of impossibly sharp, pointed teeth lurking behind a terrifying, starved smile. “Come for me, my pet. Show your master what a good plaything you shall be.”

The chant transcends into a rumbling, dark mass. “Venio. Cedo. Venio. Cedo.”

You blindly reach out for stability as he fucks you roughly, slapping his hips up into you. In amongst his long silky locks you grip onto two jet-black horns as you feel the impending detonation. 

It’s a fiery blur; blistering lights, electric jolts and snarled calls as your orgasm literally wracks you, soul to body. Jagged pain sears your breast as Bucky latches on, marking you and claiming you for all eternity. Your mind is overcome with vivid images of fire, eternal darkness and jarring light.

When you eventually come back to reality, your back grinds against the soft fur of the rugs, fingers marking your body with symbols drawn in blood as the brunette fucks you furiously. 

It’s hard to miss the glint of silver in his hand as he moves the blade through the air, speckles of black mist bleeding into the air. 

“Meus es tu,” he growls moving the blade across your arm before pressing his hand into yours. You do not feel pain nor fear, you feel free and alive as he comes, his seed filling you.

“Asmodeus regnat,” Steve announces jubilantly and the crowd around you dissolves into cries of joy. 

Your blood is on fire, dancing through your veins as Bucky pulls you up into a heated and starved kiss. He is dominant and demanding as you feel him begin to harden once more.

It is hours before you find comfort in sleep, fucked and filled over and over again that night. When you eventually awake, a full moon has risen over the moor and the carnal leader is peppering kisses to your body. Around you, couples make love, singing songs of Asmodeus.

“Welcome back, my Queen.” 

A surge of arousal hits you hard as he draws himself up over you, his arousal already drawing through your slick folds. 

“Who are you?”

“Some call me Asmodeus. Others Ashmedai. I am the prince of His Majesty’s army of the night. I call the demons my children. I am the prince of lust and all the carnal desires your God would have you turn from.”

His voice lulls you from the anxiety peering through the shadows of your exhausted and bruised body. 

“And you are my Queen. Mother of my children,” he huskily taunts sinking himself into your ready pussy. “Now come, my pet, there is so much of this wretched Holiday to debauch. Open your legs wide and take your King.”

**Author's Note:**

> Laude Asmodeus - Praise Asmodeus  
> Benedicite Asmodeus et eius sponsa - Bless Asmodeus and his bride  
> Vestra phylarchus quod paratus - Your prince is ready  
> Ave Asmodeus. Ut non laudo Asmodeus - Hail Asmodeus. We praise Asmodeus.  
> Venio. Cedo - Come. Yield.
> 
> Feedback is always welcome x


End file.
